


Choices and Consequences

by pagerunner



Series: the echoes of our choices [1]
Category: Borderlands
Genre: Gen, okay you don't have to squint too hard, probably some unrequited Vaughn/Rhys if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4860539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagerunner/pseuds/pagerunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys might be having second thoughts about getting those ECHO upgrades. And Vaughn might be getting nervous for a whole lot of reasons. It's time for these two to talk it through. Set pre-game, no particular spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choices and Consequences

It wasn’t until the night before the upgrades that Rhys got cold feet.

Vaughn was the one to find him, perhaps inevitably, but not without a long and anxious scavenger hunt first. After two unanswered calls, another fruitless call to Yvette, a peek into two different employee bars, and another agitated ping— _You’ve got forms to validate, Rhys. Where the hell are you?_ —he finally trekked back to the apartment, grumbling all the way.

“If I missed you somewhere and you’re getting smashed the night before surgery,” Vaughn muttered, “I swear I’m going to kick your ass halfway to—“

He never finished the sentence. The door to their shared unit _shush_ ed open open at a thumb-press, and Vaughn looked in to see a single light on in the living space. “Rhys?” he said tentatively. “You in here?”

There wasn’t a reply, exactly. There was just the faint cascade of computerized speech. Vaughn stepped forward, seeing a familiar silhouette on the couch. Apparently Rhys had made his way back while Vaughn was out, and now he was hunched over a tablet that he’d propped up on the messy table—Vaughn was sure he’d cleaned it earlier, but his roommate had done some damage in the interim—with one finger flicking in a lifeless rhythm along the surface. Vaughn let out a sigh.

“Oh, man. Okay. You’re here. Why weren’t you returning my calls?”

Rhys made a face. Vaughn only saw it in reflection on—damn it—an empty bottle on the table. In the meantime, the tablet answered for him in a disturbingly chipper voice. “Possible side effects from the ECHO implantation may include, but are not limited to, memory loss, migraines, impaired motor function, aphasia…”

“Oh, crap,” Vaughn said under his breath.

Rhys flicked again, dourly. The tablet continued reading. “…auditory or visual hallucinations, tinnitus, nervous twitching…”

“Rhys, would you turn that thing off?”

“Color blindness,” countered the tablet, cheerful as could be. “Localized lack of sensation. Paranoia. Eczema.”

“Eczema doesn’t even make _sense_ ,” Vaughn said, and reached forward to take the tablet away. Rhys, though, shook his head, pointing to his temple with his free hand.

“It means skin irritations around the data port or the…the arm socket,” he said. His voice was shaky, although whether that was from nerves or the whiskey was hard to guess. “Allergic reactions, or whatever. I looked it up.”

“Looked it—okay, man, how long have you been reading this form?”

Rhys didn’t answer. Vaughn made a despairing little noise and sat down across from his friend. Sure enough, Rhys looked well and truly spooked. Vaughn didn’t know what to think. Rhys had been the picture of determination ever since they’d made this plan, and since the two of them had figured out just how much cybernetic gear Rhys’ hard-earned bonus could buy. It wasn't the top-of-the-line stuff, not quite, but enough to get the job done. Rhys had been totally psyched. But now, just hours away from the final procedure…

 _You can’t freak out_ now, Vaughn almost blurted out. In the silence his hesitation left, the tablet put in another helpful contribution. “Altered personality,” it said, still reading off disclaimers. “Impaired impulse control. Itchy trigger finger. Fear of socks.”

Vaughn grabbed the tablet, actually growled at it, and mashed the _mute_ button. Rhys just blanched. 

“Listen,” Vaughn said at last, trying to distract him. “You know how Hyperion forms are. They have to say all that stuff. But half the time it’s CYA boilerplate, and the other half, it’s delivery menus because Legal hasn’t gotten out for lunch in three weeks.”

“i know, I know.” Rhys ran a hand back through his hair, nervously clutching it at the nape. “But still.”

Vaughn shook his head. “What’s bothering you so much? You went over all this with the doctors already. You laughed it off, then. I watched you. With…the laughing. I didn’t think you had this much on your mind.”

Rhys let go, but looked up at the ceiling, his warm brown eyes staring at something Vaughn couldn’t see. “That’s the thing, though. I just started _thinking,_ is all. It doesn’t sound terrifying when you’re watching all the sales pitches, but now…”

“But now it’s real?” Vaughn said, starting to get it.

“Yeah.”

“And all this…”

Rhys considered the tablet in Vaughn’s hands and let out a low, cracked laugh. “It’s probably stupid, what I’m actually worried about. It’s not even what’s in the form.”

“What do you mean?”

Rhys spoke slowly, like he was feeling his way around it. “The eye’s an eye; that’s not a big deal. It doesn’t matter what I’ve got in there, so long as it works. And the data port…that’s…well, it’s going straight into my _brain_ , there’s no way that’s not scary…”

Vaughn made a small sound of agreement. He’d almost lost it and pulled Rhys away kicking and screaming the first time he’d looked at the diagrams. Still, he frowned. “Even that’s not it?”

“Not really. That stuff’s invasive, but it’s not _changing_ me. At least I hope it’s not. It’s more just an addition. But the rest…”

Rhys stopped mid-gesture, swore softly, and let his hands fall into his lap. And then he looked down at them. So did Vaughn.

“Oh,” Vaughn said.

Rhys let out another, even more miserable laugh. “It’s my _hand_ , Vaughn. My arm. It’s a perfectly good arm. I’m kind of attached to it.” He swallowed. “Kind of the problem, right there.” 

Vaughn shifted uncomfortably. Yes, it was a perfectly good arm. It was a very nice arm. He’d had it slung around his shoulders enough times to know. But— “It’s part of the package,” he said. “You agreed to that.”

“I did. But…it’s kind of extreme, isn’t it? There’s no way that isn’t an extreme decision.”

“Rhys…”

“Maybe—maybe if…if I went with the eye and the data uplink, at least, those would…”

“Be a stupidly expensive version of these,” Vaughn said, pushing his glasses up his nose. He was getting nervous again. “All the data mining and hacking interfaces are in the hand. It won’t work without it, Rhys. That’s the point. The whole plan—“

“Screw the plan.”

“Screw _you_ ,” Vaughn burst out, and Rhys went wide-eyed, as visibly shocked as Vaughn felt at his own exclamation. The words spilled out regardless. “Remember that whole Eridium deal we made? All the strings I pulled and the things I covered up for you so it would come together? The backs we stabbed? That _I_ stabbed? You had me screwing over colleagues I actually liked, and all so you could look good enough to get your bonus and pay for all these _upgrades_. This is what’s supposed to give us—all of us—that leg up we need. And you’re about to welch out because you’re upset about your hand?”

Rhys was still staring in amazement, but now he was angry. “Don’t you put all that on me, Vaughn. What were you doing for that deal? You were shuffling numbers around. I’m about to get a whole _limb_ chopped off. Not the same thing!”

It wasn’t, and Vaughn knew it, but he flung the tablet back at Rhys anyway. It landed on the couch beside him, still glowing, where it cast a faint yellow light all along Rhys’ left side.

“You better still sign that thing,” Vaughn said. “Because I did already. I vouched for you. Said you were of sound mind and all that crap.”

“So…you were lying for me?”

“Again,” Vaughn said, cautiously rising to Rhys’ sarcastic joke. He still didn’t trust his friend’s mood. “‘Cause sure…my friend who was talking last week like he’s gonna turn into some sort of cybernetic badass superhero? He’s not messed up in the head at all.”

“Hey, I never said ‘superhero.’”

“You were thinking it.”

Rhys snorted. He sat back with a _whoomp_ against the cushions, which, Vaughn thought irrelevantly, needed to be replaced. Not that they had the money. The money was…going elsewhere. Like the replacement for that hand Rhys was still studying, flexing his fingers in midair, turning his wrist one way and another.

“It _is_ supposed to be super strong,” Rhys said, almost to himself, like he was trying to talk himself back up again. “The arm, I mean. So that’s one cool thing.”

Vaughn took the opportunity to play along. “Sure it is. Chicks’ll be impressed.”

Rhys’ eyebrows lifted. “First it’s all about the deal, and now that’s where you’re going with this?”

“Hey, some girls think the cyborg thing is hot, okay? That’s all I’m saying.” Vaughn fidgeted under Rhys’ suddenly searching look. “And all right, I…might have been reading dating profiles. For _me_. Just…trying to figure out what they’re looking for, and…would you stop staring at me like that?”

“Mmm-hmm. Ladykiller. You’re not thinking of getting your own eyes done, are you?”

“No. And stay on topic.”

“You brought it up.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Rhys did, mostly, although he was chuckling. Vaughn let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Anyway. You, and that new hand? The whole new system? You _know_ how much it’s capable of. I know you’re an awesome hacker, but there’s some things you just can’t get into without the right interface. And with this you can access any system you _want_.”

“That’s true,” Rhys said, going thoughtful again. “Any Hyperion system online….”

“Any _anything_ online. You want company secrets? You want other companies’ secrets? This is how we’re going to do it, Rhys.”

Slowly Rhys nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s going to be awesome.”

Vaughn perked up. “‘ _Going_ to be.”

“That’s what I said. Why?”

“You’re really doing this, aren’t you?”

Rhys paused. His fingers slowly curled in against the palm. “I am,” he said, still focused on the hand. “Just…”

Vaughn was halfway through a big, deep breath when the qualifier hit him. He said, warily, “Just what?”

“There are things I’m gonna miss, is all. The robot hand might be great, but…” He hesitated there, his mouth working like he was trying to smile, but he didn’t get there. His voice went small and a little bit strange. “It can’t even _feel_ anything.”

Vaughn opened his mouth to reply. Starting to feel strange too, though, he stopped. Something made him get up instead, step forward, and sit on the edge of the table closest to Rhys. He shoved several things onto the floor in the process. He couldn't even be bothered to care.

Rhys blinked at him. “Vaughn—“

Vaughn considered him seriously, and didn’t debate the point. He just said, his voice low, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Rhys worked over something to say, too, but went silent. Unexpectedly, he reached out both hands. Vaughn hesitated only a moment before clasping them both. Rhys held on tight, then sagged.

“What am I doing,” he said, too distantly for it even to be a proper question.

Vaughn didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he could. Rhys’ hands were so warm, and Vaughn, trying very hard all of a sudden not to think, just kept holding on in what little reassurance he could give. He dared one little rub of his thumb, then went still again. Everything was quiet.

“You said I need to sign that thing,” Rhys said at last, not looking up. 

Vaughn swallowed. He glanced sidelong at the glowing tablet. “Yeah, you do.”

“I…think I’m going to throw up.”

“Hey! Don’t do it on _me_.”

Rhys laughed once, and this time he did move, nudging Vaughn enough in the process that they both looked up. His eyes were almost golden in this light, and in that moment, something in that smile, that close, made something twist low in Vaughn’s gut. Then Rhys gently disengaged himself and got up. 

“Hold that thought,” Rhys said, before the thought Vaughn was actually having had had a chance to crystallize. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Um,” Vaughn said, fidgeting with his own hands now. “Okay.”

Rhys gave him a long look before he turned and strode off in the direction of the bathroom. Vaughn just sat where he was as the door closed. For a while afterward it was quiet again except for the sound of running water, and Vaughn, feeling somewhat at a loss, imagined Rhys pressing a cool cloth to his face, trying to calm himself down and think his way through whatever was left of the decision—

There was an indeterminate noise, and then a sudden smash.

Vaughn lurched to his feet. “Rhys?” he called, worried. “Rhys, are you okay in there?”

The door slid open again. This time Rhys was revealed holding his wounded right hand to his chest. “Um, sorry,” he said, looking somehow both pained and sheepish. “I might’ve kinda…punched something.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Vaughn said, and hurried over to see what the damage was. Rhys had, from the looks of it, punched something made of glass, which meant the options for what he’d destroyed were pretty slim. 

“Did you punch the _mirror_?” Vaughn asked, picking reflective bits out of Rhys’ scratches. Rhys winced. “Why did…”

“Doesn’t matter, just—ow,” Rhys said. When Vaughn gave him a look, Rhys offered a sardonic smile. “At least I used the disposable hand?”

Vaughn sighed, steered him toward the sink at the kitchenette, and set about cleaning up the mess before Rhys did anything else stupid, like bleeding out before they got as far as surgery. _Because that_ , Vaughn thought, _would just figure_.

It didn’t turn out to be that dramatic, though. It only necessitated a careful rinse and a perfunctory wrapping. ”Won’t matter by morning,” Rhys said, trying to brush him off, and Vaughn decided to let it go. But by the end of it, Rhys looked exhausted. Vaughn finally pointed him across the room. “Get some sleep, Rhys. Before you fall on your face and we have to wheel you into the hospital early.”

Rhys cracked a smile, gave him an oddly lingering one-armed hug—with the right arm, Vaughn noticed—and made his way across the room. Right before the door, though, he paused. Looking over his shoulder at the couch, he took a deep breath and finally returned to pluck up the tablet. With one swift swipe to the bottom of the consent form, he reached the signature field, scribbled and tapped something with one fingertip, and set the tablet down.

Then he retreated to his bed without a word.

Vaughn didn’t move for a while. When he did, he crept up to the couch and leaned over the back of it to see the form. Rhys’ signature was there, confirmed and validated at last.

So was a faint smudge of his own blood.

Vaughn sat down where Rhys had been, still feeling the warmth there, and put his head in his hands. And for the rest of the night, he didn’t sleep a wink at all.

\--

The procedure, even for experienced Hyperion medtechs, wasn’t simple, and it wasn’t short. Vaughn spent most of the morning pacing around the waiting room, grousing at the general state of the universe and the persistent pings of his coworkers. Ostensibly Vaughn was still on the clock. Off the record, he pretty much wanted the clock to go fuck itself.

After a long while, though, and far too much time to dwell on his thoughts, he finally got the alert he’d been waiting for.

As Rhys’ designated contact, Vaughn had visitor privileges, so the staff let him into recovery without much fuss. Vaughn still spent most of the walk nervously bracing himself, because he wasn’t sure he was ready to see his friend laid out like this. In the back of his head, disclaimers still echoed: _impaired motor function, memory loss, altered personality_ …

“Please don’t have screwed this up,” he whispered, before letting himself get ushered into the room.

What he saw was Rhys still mostly under, neatly tucked in, and lying straighter than he ever did during ordinary, sprawled-all-over-the-bed sleep. Somehow, that was the most disconcerting thing until Vaughn started taking in the details. Tubes were running everywhere, and a plain white patch—well, plain except for a repeated imprint of the Hyperion logo, which Vaughn supposed he should have expected—obscured half his face. It meant the new eye was still a mystery. His arms, though, were perfectly visible.

Organic on the left. Hyperion MT Data-Slicer peripheral on the right.

Vaughn stared at it for so long that he almost didn’t notice when Rhys started coming to.

“V…” he heard. “V-va…”

Vaughn leaned forward, listening intently, but the word didn’t come out right. Vaughn watched Rhys slowly blink one eye open, his visible eyebrow furrowing at the attempt at speech. “That’ll be the aphasia,” said the doctor at Vaughn’s shoulder, making him jump. He hadn’t noticed the woman was even there. She, however, sounded bored, and Vaughn latched onto that. _Bored is good, right? Bored means routine. Routine means it’s fine…_

“It’s fine, right?” he said aloud, wanting the reinforcement. “That part’s supposed to be temporary. There’s just...some rewiring going on in his brain, is what I read?”

The doctor shrugged. Hyperion was not, Vaughn reminded himself, known for the warm-and-fuzzy approach in any capacity. “Most people who get this implant work through it. He may have some hesitation for a while, maybe a stutter. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go.”

Vaughn nodded nervously. “Hey, man,” he said to Rhys around the sudden lump in his throat. He had to admit, he’d been hoping for something more solid than _we’ll figure it out as we go_. “You’re all done. Feeling okay in there?”

There was a small, non-committal grunt, which wasn’t entirely reassuring but was at least a response. Vaughn tried an encouraging smile, then directed a question to the doctor. “Hey, when can we see about the eye?”

“We’re probably good for that,” the doctor replied, leaning over the bed to check a monitor. It looked completely incomprehensible to Vaughn. Apparently it was good news, though, because she nodded briskly and started loosening the medical tape. “I don’t recommend letting him use the data port until full mental integration, though. Otherwise you really will cook his brain.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Vaughn said dryly, watching her slowly peel back the gauze. First he saw the new eye, half-lidded and still indistinct, and then the data port close to its side. It lit up as Vaughn watched. 

“It’s running diagnostics,” said the doctor, while the light pulsed briefly blue before going dormant. That must have been the expected behavior, because the doctor only made a brief nod before making a note on her own tablet. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t wear him out.”

“I won’t,” Vaughn promised, and watched her go. When he turned back, Rhys was moving his head slightly, squinting against the light in the room. Vaughn took a minute to find the right switch— _last thing I want is to cut off something important_ , he thought, nervously skipping several options—and dialed it down. “Hey, Rhys. That better?”

It seemed to be. Rhys’ face relaxed and he opened his eyes all the way, or at least as far as the slightly swollen left would go. The results made Vaughn gasp.

Not only was the ECHO eye lit up like it was already scanning, the iris was goddamned _blue_.

“Whoa,” said Rhys, his voice hushed.

Vaughn stepped closer again, shaking his head in wonder. He had no idea what Rhys was seeing right now, but the look on his face indicated it was in a whole other league from Vaughn’s own data display. Which, despite his barb last night, he’d always known. There wasn’t any way Rhys would be anything but leagues ahead of him.

Rhys, unaware of where Vaughn’s thoughts were going, attempted to say, “Thi….t-this is…”

“Awesome?” Vaughn ventured.

Rhys replied with a sound that was far more affirmative than his first. Vaughn took it as a good sign.

“I…kinda think I’m jealous,” he admitted. Rhys chuckled softly, flicking his gaze around the room. Vaughn wished he knew what kind of information Rhys was picking up, but right now, it was kind of hard to ask. _We’ll get there_ , Vaughn told himself, hoping he was right.

In the meantime, Rhys’ eye dimmed and he settled back with a sigh. Vaughn figured he was still pretty tired. Even un-lit, though, the eye was really something. “You never told me you picked blue,” he said. “That’s...wow.”

Rhys gave him a look that clearly said, _Is “wow” good?_

“Hell, yeah, it’s good. It’s…”

Rhys waited expectantly while Vaughn reached for a word. Then a thought hit him so suddenly it made him laugh out loud. He’d realized in that moment what Rhys must have been going for all along. “You look like Handsome Jack.”

There was a faint mechanical noise. Vaughn looked down, away from Rhys’ expression of concentration, and saw the robotic arm begin to move. It took a few hesitant, half-formed motions to get there, but the hand curled into an unmistakable thumbs-up.

Vaughn returned the gesture, grinning, and thought that maybe, just maybe, this might turn out all right after all.

\--

It took a couple days in recovery before Rhys was fully mobile again. Between the spatial disorientation—something else that was probably in the consent-form fine print somewhere—and a few lingering headaches, not to mention the arm changing his balance, he was downright clumsy at the start. But Vaughn had a plan in mind and his own timeline for it, and so he kept encouraging Rhys to get moving. 

 _After all,_ he thought, _I can’t get Epstein to hold those crates forever…_

Finally, Rhys got just as impatient as his friend was. “Okay, dude, I…I need real clothes,” he told Vaughn one morning, and Vaughn in turn did his best. Shirts were a problem—nothing fit properly over the new arm—but he found an oversized Hyperion hoodie that worked all right, the slacks were no trouble, and Rhys entirely happily put on a pair of his favorite patterned socks, so Vaughn wrote off _that_ part of the medical disclaimers, at least, as total bullshit.

“So much better,” Rhys sighed. He ran his left hand back through his hair, briefly made a face, and said, “Next step? H-hair gel.”

“Uh-unh. Not yet. We’re going for a walk.”

“A walk? Where?”

“I wanted to give you a chance to give your former life a proper send-off,” Vaughn said, a little archly. “Come on.”

Rhys looked puzzled, but shrugged and got out of his chair. Vaughn watched him pull up the hood with both hands. The mechanical fingers were almost as deft now as the originals. And with the hood up, Vaughn could see a striking glow of blue light though the shadow that obscured Rhys' face.

 _Yep,_ Vaughn thought wryly. _That’s why girls think the cyborg thing is hot._

He held the commentary, though, and waved Rhys forward, heading out of the hospital room for good.

The walk was short, which was fortunate, although Rhys handled it without trouble. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and ambled along, still outpacing Vaughn with his longer legs. He finally had to stop for lack of direction. “W-which way are we going, anyway?”

Vaughn kept on tactfully ignoring the little hitches in Rhys’ speech. They were getting better, at least, much fewer and farther between. “Try scanning the facility,” he suggested. “See if you can tell what’s what.”

Rhys peered at him. “Test run, huh?” 

“That’s the idea.”

Rhys smiled. “Taskmaster,” he said. The eye brightened, though, its digital aperture whirring, and Rhys cast an inquisitive look around the empty hall. “Okay, we’re getting near the staff-only areas. That…that’s, um…” He made an effort and pushed the words out. “Supplies, over that way, and the em…ployee break room.”

“So far, so boring,” Vaughn agreed. “But over _here…”_

He gestured dramatically at an unmarked door. Rhys rolled his eyes but took the hint. After a couple seconds of reading his ECHO display, he frowned. “Biological waste disposal? Why—“

“Come on, come on. Let’s go in. I want to see you unlock the door.”

“I’m not even wearing shoes.”

“It’s not like they leave the gross stuff on the _floor._ They disinfect it anyway. You’re fine.”

Rhys looked at Vaughn like he was crazy, but then shook his head and said, “Okay. Breaking in…to the biohazard zone.”

He pulled his cybernetic hand from his pocket and held it palm-up before the access pad.

Vaughn couldn’t help an exclamation of “oh, _cool”_ as the hand lit up. A projected display spread out above Rhys’ palm, showing the access pad’s schematics. Rhys laughed in pleased surprise—and maybe relief that it had worked—then focused in.

“Well, well,” Rhys murmured, using his other hand to rotate the image. “Look at you. Basic palmprint reader, huh? Nothing too complicated, but…there’s gotta be an override function somewhere.”

He wasn’t stuttering now, Vaughn noticed. Not when he was in the zone.

“Maybe if I disable _this,”_ Rhys murmured, and poked at the display. It didn’t immediately respond. “Wait, okay, no, I need to do—“

He activated the right function that time, but unfortunately, it wasn’t the right hack. A red light flashed on above the door. “Whoops,” Rhys said, as an alarm began to sound. “Okay, not that.”

“Uh…Rhys? We need _not_ to get caught here,” Vaughn said, nervously looking around. Rhys waved him off.

“Hold on, I’ve got it. Just a second now—there.”

He made another adjustment—hands-free, Vaughn noticed; he was getting the hang of this—and this time, the alarm shut off and the light above the door turned green. Vaughn heard a click. The door swung open. 

“All _right,_ ” they both said simultaneously. Rhys looked over at Vaughn, who laughed, gestured at the open door, and said, “After you.”

Rhys headed in.

The room was dimly lit, filled with shelving for waste containers of various sizes and shapes. Ahead of them was the eventual destination for all those containers, an industrial incinerator. And in between—Vaughn relaxed, because his contact had obviously come through—were two labeled crates set side-by-side upon a table.

Rhys pulled back his hood again to see them better. Vaughn glanced up, seeing the edge of the tattoo on Rhys’ neck, the slightly puzzled expression.

“Is—is that…” Rhys put it together before Vaughn could answer, and his eyes practically bugged out. “Uh—“

Vaughn snickered. “Oh, my God, the look on your face right now.”

“Is that…my arm? Vaughn, is that my arm in there?”

“That’s your name and employee number, so it better be.” Vaughn pushed his glasses up, squinting at the label to be sure. His own display verified it; the numbers matched up. “And yeah, the little box is—“

“That’s…the eye.”

“Yes, it is.” As Rhys stared at it, momentarily tongue-tied, Vaughn asked, “Um. Is this weird? It’s probably weird.”

“It’s…a little weird.”

“Okay. Fair. But…oh, boy, now I gotta explain.” Vaughn laughed nervously. “I just had this idea while you were in surgery, ‘cause I was thinking…you’ve been through a lot with this. A lot of big decisions. Giving some important stuff up. It deserves a real ending, right? And…”

He paused. The next thing he said encompassed more than he’d even meant to bring up. “Maybe I kinda messed up.“

Rhys turned. “Vaughn,” he said, looking upset at his friend’s sudden, uncomfortable confession. But Vaughn waved him off. Now that he was talking, he wanted to get all the way through.

“This whole thing with your upgrades? I was probably thinking too much about us. I know you always say if one of us moves up, we all move up. That was the deal. But this was a lot for me to expect you to do. You tried to tell me that, I know, but until you got here, I don’t think it really sunk in. And then it was like…God. This is huge.” He looked again at the crates. “ _Huge.”_

Rhys scratched his temple beside the data port. “It _was_ my idea,” he said, sounding oddly self-conscious. “Not gonna lie, you wer—weren’t really wrong about the superhero thing.”

Vaughn cracked a smile. “You sure did talk it up.”

“I kinda did.”

“But still. I pushed, too. And this is supposed to be about you. Your life, your decision. This _is_ you. Literally. So…well, it’s your call. But if you want…”

His gesture this time was weaker, less certain. He had no idea now if he was _still_ pushing, just in a different direction. But he had to say it anyway. “I thought you might want to do the honors.”

Rhys thought about it. “You mean…big, flamey funeral for the old me?”

“And hello to the awesome new Rhys, version 2.0.” Vaughn rethought that. “Well, 2.1. They kinda misaligned the eye first time and had to do it over.”

“I did _not_ need to know that.”

“Sorry.”

Rhys accepted that at face value, to Vaughn’s relief. After all, he didn’t want to mention the other things he'd seen and hadn’t needed to know about, either—chief amongst those being the bone saws. He’d had nightmares about those twice. He had to admit privately that some of this venture was for himself, too, because he really wanted the uglier parts of this experience to go up in flames.

He just hoped he was guessing right, and that Rhys might want that, too.

“Listen,” Rhys said at last, after he’d had a chance to take everything in. “If all this is an apology…you don’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

“I know, but…come on, Vaughn. You think I’d have gotten through _any_ of this without you? I should be thanking you.”

Vaughn was pretty sure he was already blushing. “Oh, man. This isn't about...”

“No. I mean that. Y-you’re my best friend. I _need_ you to push me and kick me in the ass sometimes and…and get me to see sense. And you’ve been here this whole time, even when I was r…right on the verge of chickening out. You made _this_ possible.” He held up the hand again, making it glow radiant in the dark room. It lit up the smile on Rhys’ face. “You’re…you’ve been awesome.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So we’re good?”

Rhys turned his hand over, and—still concentrating a little on the fine motions—curled his fingers into a fist. When Vaughn didn’t immediately respond, he nudged it forward a couple times in midair, trying to get him to take the hint. “Come on. Fistbump, bro.”

Vaughn laughed, if maybe a little ruefully. Maybe remembering the night before surgery, picking glass out of the real hand, still trying to hold it and heal it before it was gone. But he swallowed that down and did his best not to let it show.

“Yeah, bro,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t actually crack. And he raised up his fist in response.

When Rhys brought his own hand forward, their knuckles met with enough force to knock everything else out of Vaughn’s head.

“ _Ow,_ ” he said despite himself, and Rhys went wide-eyed, immediately fumbling out an apology.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Vaughn—sorry…didn’t quite…adjust for strength there…”

Vaughn shook his stinging hand in midair, even while he started to laugh—because of _course_ that was how this was going to go. Of course it was. But when he brushed off Rhys’ apologies and told him it didn’t matter, he meant it.

“Don’t worry,” Vaughn said. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”

And he tossed Rhys the smaller of the two crates.

“Start with that one,” he said.

Rhys caught it, only fumbling a little. With that, they got down to the real business of the hour—which began with Rhys scanning the crate out of morbid curiosity, then recoiling and howling “why did I _do_ that,” which sent Vaughn into absolute gales of laughter. After that, everything really did feel okay again. They stood shoulder to shoulder before the incinerator, saying a fond farewell at first to the eye, then the arm, the latter of which they had to wrestle awkwardly into the disposal dock. “You long-limbed _freak,”_ Vaughn muttered, for which Rhys lightly smacked him. Then Rhys pressed the button with the robot hand and saluted the crate’s disappearance as flames rose up behind the clouded glass.

“Farewell, Rhys 1.0,” Rhys said, snapping his hand down. “You low-level Hyperion lackey, you. Not gonna miss you.”

“Well,” Vaughn said. “Maybe a little.”

He hadn’t exactly meant to say it, but he did. And as Rhys glanced down at him, Vaughn wondered what memories were passing through his head, too. What other thoughts he might have had. Rhys didn’t voice any of them, though, just nodded faintly before he turned back and looked straight ahead. “Yeah. Maybe a little.”

They stood there in silence for a while, letting the fire die down. Then they walked side by side out of the room, making far more of a picture than they realized—Rhys still in his stocking feet but with his new eye glowing, and Vaughn already fielding a call from Yvette, getting ready to tell her the news.

“We’re all good,” Vaughn said, smiling at the display like he was ready for anything. “Time to get to work.”


End file.
